It didn’t mean that she was without feelings, though, and here they were.
“Jane . . . don’t cry.”
“I just don’t know how we’re going to get through this. I really don’t. He’s upset. I’m upset. And then there’s Payne.” Abruptly, she put her hand on his arm and squeezed. “Can you please . . . can you help him. With what he needs. Maybe it’s the crack in the ice that will help us.”
As the two of them stared at each other, he wondered if they were really on the same level. But how could he bring that up judiciously: So do you want me to work him over instead of the lessers?
What if they weren’t on the same page. And she was already tearing up.
“I can’t do it,” Jane said roughly. “And not just because we’ve got issues at the moment. I just don’t have it in me. He trusts you—I trust you . . . and he needs it. I’m worried that if he doesn’t break through this wall he’s got going on that he and I aren’t going to make it—or worse. Take him to the Commodore, please.”
Well, that settled one issue.
He cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking the same thing, frankly. And, actually, I just . . . offered it to him.”
“Thank you.” She cursed and wiped her eyes. “You know him as well as I do. He needs to get unfrozen—somehow, some way.”
“Yeah.” Butch reached out and stroked her cheek. “And I’ll take care of him. You don’t worry about it.”
She put her hand on his. “Thank you.”
They embraced for a moment, and as they did, he thought there was nothing he wouldn’t do to keep Jane and V together.
“Where is he now?” he asked.
“I have no idea. He gave me a bag and I just packed it and left. I didn’t see him in the Pit, but then I wasn’t looking for him.”
“I’m on it. Will you help Manello?”
When she nodded, he gave her a lingering squeeze and then took off, hitting the underground tunnel and rocketing down to the last stop in the thing: the Pit.
With no idea what he was walking into, he put in the pass code and stuck his head in through the reinforced door. No smoke, so nothing was on fire. No screaming. No scent of anything but the fresh bread his Marissa had baked earlier.
“V? You here?” No answer.
God, it was too fucking quiet.
Down the hall, he found V and Jane’s room empty and in a mess. The closet door was open and there were things gone from the hangers, but that was not what really got his attention.
He went over to the leathers and picked them up. Nice Catholic boy like him didn’t know much about BDSM, but it looked like he was going to be learning firsthand.
Taking out his cell phone, he hit V, but didn’t expect an answer. He guessed GPS was going to have to come in handy once again.
“Seems like old times.”
Manny focused on the computer screen as he spoke. Hard to say what was the most awkward part of sitting next to his former colleague. With so much to choose from, the silence between them was an Easter-egg hunt for three-year-olds, everything badly hidden, ready to be found and captured.
“Why do you want to review the digital files?” she asked.
“You’ll see when we get there.”
Jane had no problem locating the right program, and a moment later the live image of Payne’s room came up on the screen. Wait, the bed was empty . . . except for a duffel bag.
“Wrong one. Here it is,” Jane murmured.
And there she was. His Payne. Lying against the pillows, the tail end of her braid in her hands, her eyes locked on the bathroom as if maybe she were imagining him still in the shower.
Damn . . . she was beautiful.
“You think,” Jane said softly.
Okay, now would be a great time for his mouth to stop working independently.
He cleared his throat. “Can we go back about a half hour?”
“No problem.”
The image reversed, the little counter in the lower right-hand corner draining down in milliseconds.
As he saw himself checking her over in that towel, it was too frickin’ obvious that they were attracted to each other. Oh, God . . . that fucking hard-on so gave him another reason not to look at Jane.
“Wait . . .” He sat forward. “Slow down. Here it is.”
He watched himself back into the bath in a rush. . . .
“Holy